


landmark

by kittenscully



Series: x files prompt fills [7]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s11e03 Plus One, F/M, Grinding, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s11e03 Plus One, thinking about that sofa bed...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenscully/pseuds/kittenscully
Summary: Her hot little palm finds the back of his neck, pulls his head down, closer, no space left between them. He presses his mouth to the slender swell of her shoulder, and she whimpers like she’s been wounded, like he’s touched her between her legs.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: x files prompt fills [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789186
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	landmark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msrafterdark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msrafterdark/gifts).



> Not quite a prompt fill, but rather, a little fic fully inspired by and written to go with [this gorgeous art](https://twitter.com/msrafterdark/status/1367653107497328646?s=19) by @msrafterdark, with her blessing! Please look at the art first and give her the credit she deserves.

On one side, the fuzzy glow of the lamp, still lit. On the other, impossibly, _Scully_.

The haze of disbelief lingers in the syrupy air, even with her collapsed into a warm heap on the sofa bed sheets. They fell silent and sated what feels like only moments ago, still heaving with the rush of reunion, but Mulder knows more time has passed. Still, though, her breathing hasn’t slowed, and she hasn’t curled herself into him, either.

He stares up at the ceiling. He counts Scully’s exhales, uneven and close.

They’re naked, inches apart, and it’s almost unbearably familiar. And yet, to pull her into his chest would feel like overstepping, and to ask why she’s uneasy would be a risk.

It’s just that it’s been so long, and he’s lagging behind, unable to catch up with the idea of having her back.

So, instead, he muses. Analyzes the things she’d said out loud, before, and the things she’d said with every desperate touch, during. Considers what she wants, perpetually in _chiaroscuro,_ the graceful lines of her body, the rasp in her moans.

The scent of her lingers in the air, thick and salty, and his body reacts like a teenager’s. He balls up his fist and bites his tongue, hears her shift beside him.

He’s been waiting for so long that patience and stillness have become second nature. He thinks of her, thirty and silenced, soft and small in his sweater. Thirty-eight and skittish, shrinking by the day in motels and long car rides. And now, pushing fifty-five, a noble mosaic catching the light, so unbearably beautiful it almost hurts to look too long.

For her, he could wait forever, and never begrudge her a day.

Scully breathes in, her skin a whisper against cotton, and he finally turns to look.

Even still, she manages to surprise him. Wide, watery eyes meeting his, her full mouth wet and quivering. Round chin determinedly still. And her hand, small and delicate, outstretched with trepidation. As if she’s scared, now, of needing him. As if he doesn’t need her, too, this much and more.

As if he isn’t hers, a familiar landmark in the distance, a homeland waiting to be reclaimed.

“Scully,” he murmurs, taken aback by the need in her gaze, and then, “Honey.”

She doesn’t speak out loud, but he sees her mouth move. _Mulder_. Her tongue runs across her top lip, and she shifts closer, still hesitating to touch him.

“C’mere,” he tells her, gentle. And that’s all it takes.

In a surge of motion, she’s reaching for him, and he’s scooping her up by her waist, pulling her in, cradling her warm and trembling against his chest. The sheets are a mess, but all he can feel is her, the soft fullness of her breasts, big nipples hard against his stomach, his ribs. The sharp edges of her elbows as she climbs him, the dampness of her breath as she sighs into his neck, stretching up and clinging to him.

“ _Mul_ der.” Out loud this time, almost a moan.

“I’ve got you,” Mulder husks, as her hands dig into his arms, his shoulders.

Her hot little palm finds the back of his neck, pulls his head down, closer, no space left between them. He presses his mouth to the slender swell of her shoulder, and she whimpers like she’s been wounded, like he’s touched her between her legs.

Chasing that thought, he slides his knee up, parting her thighs, feels the slickness of her cunt on his skin. _Christ_. His cock twitches, growing hard against his belly, and Scully gasps. Digs her nails into the base of his skull and squirms closer, seeking it out, burying her face in his neck. He knows she’s blushing, like a girl, and his heart swells an impossible amount.

“Don’t get shy on me now, honey,” he coaxes, and she shakes her head, back and forth, back and forth.

Her hips rock as if on instinct, slicking his thigh with her juices, and he props himself up to get closer, slides his palm down her spine. There’s another whimper as he reaches her tailbone, cups her ass in one palm, and he hushes her, kisses her shoulder again, again. _I’ve got you_.

When he digs his fingers into the supple skin of one cheek, spreading her open, she moans in earnest, arches against him.

The swells of her breasts crush even closer against his chest, and his cock strains against her hot, rippling stomach. If her breathing was uneven before, it’s frantic, now, every muscle in her body straining and trembling with desire.

All this time, she must have needed him, too. All this time, she’s only been waiting to moor herself, to follow him home.

Her wet, open slit is so close to where he’s touching her, exposed to his gaze when he looks down, glistening in the lamplight. He squeezes the flesh in his palm, and she whines, wiggles her hips.

“Want me to touch you, Scully?” He asks, low, because it isn’t enough just to feel what she wants, not after so long apart. “Take care of you?”

“Please,” she murmurs, without hesitation. And Mulder knows how hard it is for her to say it, finds himself blinking back tears at her sudden, unexpected vulnerability.

He ducks his head to kiss her delicate jaw, and guides her to grind against his thigh, her hard little clit tight against the muscle. She gasps, and takes over the motion desperately as his fingers slide down to caress the crease of her thigh, back up to brush over her asshole, teasing her just a little.

Just because she’s his, again, at least in this moment, and he wants it to last. Just because she’s so small, so prone to falling apart at the slightest touch, and he’s missed it like the sun. Just because she wants to be teased, always, no matter what she says.

“ _Please_ ,” Scully says, again, this time with her mouth moving to his collarbone, teeth grazing the taut skin.

And he can’t manage it, holding out on her any longer.

He finds her cunt without looking, traces his fingers along her slit, spreads her open as she slides back on his thigh. Listens to the way she whines on the next rock forward, high and thready with need, his own body reacting with a hot burst of arousal.

“That’s my girl,” he says, almost a growl, her entrance slick and fluttering under the pad of his index finger. She’s always loved it when he talks to her, and that, at least, hasn’t changed. “God, baby, you’re so fucking wet. Needed this so bad, didn’t you?”

And she nods, desperately. and Mulder can’t resist it, the urge to give her anything, everything that she wants, especially not now. And so, the soft sound of her pleading a third time is what does him in.

He sinks two fingers into her, slowly, her walls already clenching around his digits, curses at the tight, wet heat of her. Keeps himself still and steady, as she rocks back against him, trapped between his hand and his thigh. Drops kisses on her shoulder, on the pale curve of her throat, breathes in the heady scent of her. Waits as she works herself up, gasping and sighing, trembling against his own sturdy frame.

Catches up with himself, with her, the undeniable way that she needs him, too.

The impossible, newly reborn feeling of being, once more, a place for her to come back to. A landmark, a lighthouse. A home.


End file.
